While the snow was not as deep when they got higher, the wind hit them with greater force. The snow swirled around them until Little Bear wondered how Grandfather could find his way. If there were any landmarks, drifting snow hid them. Still Grandfather moved forward as surely as though he were following a marked trail.
By the time they reached the top of the hill, both of them were gasping for breath. They tramped down the snow in the next drift they came to and crouched down to rest. Out of reach of the wind they were almost comfortable. Little Bear dreaded starting again, but if they were to reach the Crow’s camp and get back before dark, they couldn’t lose much time.
When they started on again, they were on a flat plateau at the top of the hill. Here they felt the full force of the wind. However, there was an advantage, too. The wind had swept most of the snow away and walking was easier. They stopped only once while crossing the plateau. The wind bit through their clothes so that they were quickly chilled.
Great Bear led the way into another valley. Here the drifts were deep and walking was difficult. Little Bear thought with dread of another hill ahead of them. He wondered if he could climb it. He was so tired it seemed every step must be his last. Yet he followed without protest until Great Bear halted behind a clump of trees.
They tramped out another shelter in the loose snow and sank down to rest. Great Bear opened one of the packages of food. Little Bear had thought he was too tired to eat, but the food tasted surprisingly good. He felt much better after he had eaten and had rested a few minutes.
“If I have judged correctly,” Great Bear told him, “our enemy is camped in the next canyon. It is a narrow one with the only entrance from the south.”
“Shall we have to take the horses out that entrance?” Little Bear asked.
“It is the only way,” Great Bear replied. “We must use great care so that the Crow does not see nor hear us. He could easily ambush us at the entrance.”
“Do we go in through that entrance?” Little Bear wondered.
“It is the easiest way,” Great Bear pointed out. “Besides, we want to make sure the Crow isn’t camped near it.”
Rest and food had so completely restored Little Bear that he waited impatiently for Grandfather to start. Great Bear smiled at his impatience.
“This will be our last rest until we are back in our own camp,” he warned.
At last Great Bear started on. He led the way to the hills at the west side of the valley and there turned south. Despite deep snow Grandfather and Little Bear moved rapidly. The wind at their backs pushed them along. They kept close to the hills until there was an opening to the west. Here they again turned west. Now they had a steep hill protecting them from the wind. The hill was so high and steep that snow did not fall at its base. That left a bare path for the two Sioux to follow. In a short time they came to the end of the hill. There was an opening leading north. Great Bear stopped.
“This is the entrance to the canyon,” he pointed out. “We will go slowly. This canyon widens after a short distance. It will be safest for us to stay at the east side and follow that side to the north end. I am sure the horses will be at that end.”
“And the Crow?” Little Bear wondered.
“I hope he has made camp behind trees on the west side,” Great Bear responded. “It would be the best place for a camp. If I am right, we can get to the horses without the Crow’s seeing us.”
“He is our enemy,” Little Bear reminded his grandfather. “Perhaps we should hunt the Crow before we take the horses.”
Great Bear hesitated, but finally shook his head.
“It is what I should like to do,” he admitted, “but we can’t take the time. If I am wrong and he is not in this canyon, we shall scarcely have time to get back to our camp before dark.”
To follow Grandfather’s plan, they had to turn directly into the wind. It whistled through the narrow entrance to the canyon with such force they could hardly move ahead. They struggled ahead for a long time before the canyon widened and they changed their direction. Along the east edge of the canyon the snow was piled high. Again Little Bear alternated with his grandfather at the job of breaking trail.
The worst came when they turned straight north into the face of the wind. Either the strong wind or the deep snow would have made walking a difficult task. The two together made it almost impossible. Slowly Grandfather and Little Bear fought their way forward. At last they reached the hills which formed the north rim of the canyon. Little Bear was breaking trail. He turned west. Now he could go faster. The high hills broke the force of the wind and there was no snow close to the base of the cliffs.
“Go slowly,” Grandfather warned. “The Crow may be camped east of the horses.”
Little Bear nodded. He knew it would be easy to stumble into the Crow’s camp. He came to a sudden stop and held up his hand warningly.
“There are the horses,” he exclaimed.
Great Bear stepped up beside Little Bear to get a better look.
“We must go carefully,” Great Bear warned. “The Crow may be camped near his horses.”
Great Bear took the lead. He led the way out into the canyon away from the shelter of the cliffs. In the deep snow it would have been impossible for them to move swiftly. To the impatient Little Bear, it seemed they were scarcely moving at all. But, at last, they were beside the horses. Little Bear counted ten horses. So not only would he and Grandfather get back the horses the Crow had stolen from the Sioux, but they would get some of the Crow’s horses, too.
Grandfather and Little Bear had mapped their plans when they stopped to rest. Now both of them acted as they had agreed. Great Bear went to his own buffalo horse. He mounted and rode a few paces along the trail he and Little Bear had made. Little Bear went to one of the horses that had belonged to Flying Arrow. He climbed onto it and turned it towards the rear of the herd. The horse hung its head low and refused to move. Desperately Little Bear drummed his heels against the horse’s side until it finally started. Little Bear had to fight the horse all of the way, but finally got it to the rear of the herd.
Blowing snow almost hid Great Bear from sight where he was waiting ahead of the herd. He was watching Little Bear. As soon as he saw Little Bear was in place, Great Bear started. At first the herd was unwilling to move from its sheltered place. Little Bear crowded his horse towards the herd. The other horses hesitated, but finally started to follow Grandfather.
One horse broke from the herd and tried to turn back. Little Bear’s horse, which had been so reluctant to move before, suddenly darted aside. It got in front of the runaway horse and turned it back with the rest of the herd. Two other horses tried to break from the herd, but Little Bear’s horse was too quick for them. Once aroused, it seemed to enjoy keeping the other horses in line. The entire herd finally settled into line following Great Bear.
“We have done it,” Little Bear gloated to himself. “We have really punished that Crow. He will have to walk to the Crows’ winter camp.”
Little Bear had to stifle the triumphant Sioux war cry that welled up in his throat. The next moment he was struck a terrific blow on his left shoulder. The force of the blow spun him off his horse, headlong into the deep snow. He lay dazed, half choked by snow in his nose and mouth. He put his right hand to his shoulder. His shirt was badly torn and blood was running down his arm. He forced his fingers to feel the wound. It was deep, but not deep enough to cripple his arm. He flexed the fingers of his left hand. Although it hurt badly, he could move them.
After his first dazed fright, Little Bear regained control of himself. He knew what had happened. The Crow had seen him. While Little Bear was intent on driving the horses, the Crow had sneaked up on him and shot. If it had not been for snow and wind, the arrow would have struck Little Bear’s heart.
Little Bear’s horse had stopped and was standing with head hanging low. Little Bear could look under the horse in the direction from which the arrow had come. He could see no sign of the Crow. Little Bear waited, puzzled by the lack of movement. Suddenly it dawned upon him what plan the Crow would follow.
Little Bear got to his feet, putting his bow in his left hand. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder when he grasped the bow firmly, but he forced his fingers to hold it. With his right hand he fitted an arrow to the bowstring. He stepped around his horse. His guess had been right. The Crow had slipped ahead and was taking aim at Great Bear. Great Bear had sensed something was wrong. He had stopped his horse and was turning his head to look back at the herd of horses. His startled glance fell on the Crow.
Great Bear reached for his bow, but he didn’t have a chance. The Crow’s arrow was pointed straight at him. The Crow’s movements were deliberate. He was certain he had plenty of time, and he was making sure his first arrow got rid of his enemy. Hurriedly Little Bear brought up his bow. He had no time to take aim. He pulled the bowstring tight and let the arrow fly. The arrow struck the Crow a glancing blow along his arm and knocked the warrior’s bow out of his hand.
The Crow bent forward quickly to pick up his bow, but his left hand couldn’t grasp it. Great Bear swung his horse to face the Crow. Little Bear stepped forward, fitting another arrow to his bow. When the Crow realized his arm was so injured that he couldn’t use his bow, he straightened up. He stood with his injured arm hanging at his side and turned to face Great Bear.
Great Bear rode slowly towards the Crow. The warrior stood unflinchingly watching his enemy. Great Bear took careful aim. Still the Crow stood facing him. Little Bear came to a halt and watched in amazement.
“That Crow is as brave as a Sioux,” he admitted to himself admiringly and was sorry it was necessary to kill so brave an enemy.
At the last moment Great Bear swerved his horse aside and rode past the Crow. If his plan had been to torment the Crow into showing fear, it failed. The Crow stood as motionless as a wood carving.
Great Bear completed a circle and for the second time rode at the Crow. Little Bear was ashamed of his own urge to cry out for Grandfather to spare the warrior. The Crow was his enemy. He had stolen Sioux horses and shot at Little Bear. The Crow deserved to die, and yet it took all of Little Bear’s will power to force his eyes to watch the scene. The Crow faced Great Bear without a sign of fear. Great Bear stopped his horse a few paces from the warrior. He drew his bowstring taut and took careful aim. Then slowly he lowered his bow. Great Bear raised his right hand in the sign of peace. He untied the package of food from his belt and dropped it for the Crow. Then he turned his horse and rode back to the head of the herd.
Little Bear watched unbelievingly. He kept an arrow pointed at the Crow, ready in case of treachery. The Crow picked up the package of food and, with one hand, awkwardly knotted it to his belt. Without another look towards Grandfather and Little Bear, the Crow turned and started away.
Little Bear climbed back onto his horse. As there was no longer any need to avoid the Crow, Great Bear turned off the trail and led the way directly towards the canyon entrance. The snow was not so deep in the middle of the canyon, and Grandfather was able to set a faster pace. Little Bear could feel blood oozing from his wound. It hurt badly, but he gave no sign.
The struggle back to camp in the swirling snow was a blur in Little Bear’s mind. His horse kept the unwilling herd following Great Bear. Little Bear used all his remaining strength to cling to his horse’s back. It seemed to him he had been riding for hours by the time Grandfather halted in front of the lean-to. Little Bear slid awkwardly from his horse and staggered to the shelter. He sprawled out on his buffalo robe.
Grandfather came hurrying anxiously back to the lean-to. He bent over Little Bear.
“You are wounded,” he exclaimed angrily. “I should have killed that Crow.”
“He was too brave,” Little Bear murmured and fell asleep.
Little Bear didn’t know how long he slept. When he awoke, it was dark except for the light of the campfire. The horses were gone. Little Bear guessed Grandfather had put them with their other horses. He could see Grandfather was cooking something over the fire.
Little Bear lifted his head to watch. He saw with relief that there were no flakes of snow drifting down into the fire. The storm was over. Grandfather glanced towards the lean-to.
“How is the shoulder?” Great Bear asked when he saw Little Bear was awake.
Little Bear felt of his shoulder. Grandfather had cut the shirt away and applied a poultice. The wound was sore, but the throbbing pain was gone.
“It is better,” Little Bear answered.
Grandfather came from the fire carrying something on a clean piece of bark. He bent over Little Bear and removed the poultice. Very gently Great Bear applied a new poultice.
“The soreness should be gone by morning,” he assured Little Bear.
Grandfather returned to the fire and began broiling the steaks he had cut. Little Bear’s mouth watered at the smell of cooking meat. He couldn’t remember ever having been so hungry before. Despite his hunger, when Grandfather offered him the first steak, Little Bear remembered his manners.
“You first, Grandfather,” he said.
“Wounded warriors are always fed first.” Great Bear smiled.
Little Bear felt a glow of pride. Grandfather had said “wounded warriors.” Had Grandfather meant to call him a warrior?
Little Bear was still puzzling over that question when he went to sleep. It was his first thought when he wakened the next morning. He sat up in his buffalo robe, happy to find his shoulder hardly pained at all.
There was no snow falling and the sky was clear. As soon as the sun was a short way up in the sky, it would start to melt the snow.
“Shall we start for home today?” Little Bear asked.
“If your wound is healed enough,” Great Bear answered.
Grandfather removed the poultice and examined the wound.
“You can travel,” he decided. “I’ll put a bandage on for safety.”
Little Bear went with Grandfather to get the horses. As the two of them approached the herd, Little Bear stopped to admire their horses. He and Grandfather together had sixteen good mounts, enough for a small hunting party. Grandfather watched Little Bear’s pleasure.
“You are rich.” Great Bear smiled. “Few warriors own that many ponies. You can pick a fine horse from this herd and it won’t matter whether you are able to buy Flying Arrow’s roan colt or not.”
“We have many good horses,” Little Bear agreed, “but I must have that roan colt.”
Little Bear and his grandfather each selected a horse to ride. They returned to camp, packed the meat they had left, and tied it on the back of one of the other horses. They turned out of the valley and rode northward. As much as possible Grandfather avoided the deep drifts. Despite his care, they rode through much deep snow and their progress was slow.
Although the sun shone warmly most of the day, the snow melted very little. Great Bear constantly looked to the northwest. Early in the afternoon he called a halt. He had chosen a small valley, well supplied with trees, for their camping place. Little Bear found a place where the horses could paw through the snow to grass.
“I saw you often looked to the northwest,” Little Bear said, as they sat by their campfire. “Are you afraid there will be more snow?”
“I am.” Great Bear nodded. “It doesn’t feel like snow weather, but we have been fortunate. The spirits have helped us. Some of them are sure to turn against us. I am afraid Old-Man-of-the-North will send another snowstorm.”
Despite Great Bear’s prediction the next morning dawned clear. He and Little Bear made an early start. In the country across which they were now traveling, the snow had not piled up so much. They were able to avoid most of the deep drifts. They went much farther that day than they did the first day.
“How long will it take us to reach the Sioux home camp?” Little Bear asked when they stopped for the night.
“If this weather holds, we shall be there in three more days,” Great Bear judged.
The next day was another clear, sunny day. Grandfather and Little Bear moved steadily ahead. When they had started, Great Bear had always ridden at the front of the herd. Little Bear was proud that now Grandfather often let him ride ahead. It was almost admitting he was a warrior.
When they camped that night, Grandfather was very pleased.
“With another day’s travel as good as this,” he exulted, “we’ll get home the following day even if Old-Man-of-the-North does send more snow.”
They moved as steadily ahead the next day as they had the day before. About the middle of the afternoon Little Bear was riding in the lead. He rode to the top of a small hill. In a wide valley just across the hill was a great herd of buffaloes. The herd was moving east. Since the wind was from the north, Little Bear’s scent was not carried to the buffaloes. He whirled his horse around and rode back to stop Grandfather and the horses.
“What is wrong?” Great Bear demanded anxiously.
“There is a great herd of buffalo just ahead of us,” Little Bear told him.
Great Bear dismounted and walked to the top of the hill. He soon returned.
“The herd is moving to the lowlands ahead of the snows,” Great Bear explained. “We can get all the meat our horses can carry.”
Little Bear’s eyes sparkled. He and Great Bear would ride into camp with a long string of captured horses. If they brought those horses in, loaded with meat, they surely would be heroes.
“Let’s get some buffaloes,” he urged.
Grandfather had been as excited as Little Bear. Now he hesitated.
“Riding into a big herd when it is on the move is dangerous,” he cautioned.
“I have killed a buffalo,” Little Bear reminded him.
“I know you have.” Great Bear’s voice snapped. “I know, too, the last time you visited a council, you were called boy-with-the-big-mouth.”
“I am sorry, Grandfather.” Little Bear hung his head. “I did not mean to boast.”
“You have done enough to make the warriors forget that other name.” Great Bear’s voice was softer. “Don’t boast and get it back. Remember, when you do great deeds, others will speak of them.”
“I will remember,” Little Bear promised.
“That is good,” Great Bear approved. “Now, let us make plans for our buffalo hunt. This time we want no calves; just young, fat cows.”
They sat together while Great Bear explained how they were to hunt buffaloes. When Great Bear had finished, he and Little Bear hobbled all of their horses except two. Little Bear started to mount the horse he had ridden when they took the horses from the Crow. Grandfather stopped him.
Little Bear picked out a young fat cow
Little Bear picked out a young fat cow
“You will ride my buffalo horse,” Grandfather told him. “I have hunted more times than you. I want you to have a well-trained horse so that you will be sure to get two buffaloes.”
Buffaloes are nearsighted creatures, depending upon their sense of smell to warn them of danger. Since the wind was blowing from the herd towards the two hunters, they were able to get close before the buffaloes were aware of danger.
Little Bear picked out a young, fat cow and started his horse towards it. He gave his whole attention to his bow and arrows, depending upon his horse to bring him alongside of the buffalo. When he was beside the buffalo, Little Bear fired for the spot just back of the foreleg. The arrow struck a bone and glanced off. Little Bear took careful aim. This time the arrow struck just back of the buffalo’s foreleg and buried itself to the shaft. The buffalo took two stumbling steps before it fell.
Little Bear’s horse raced after another buffalo. The buffalo swerved farther into the herd and the horse followed. As the horse carried Little Bear alongside of the buffalo, some movement at the edge of the herd pushed the buffaloes close together. The one Little Bear was after was so close to him he couldn’t get a shot at a vital spot. He took a quick look over his shoulder. Two big bulls were crowding close behind his horse. He was surrounded by a sea of buffaloes. If his horse stumbled, there would be no escape.
Desperately Little Bear pressed his right knee against the side of his horse to try to force it away from the buffalo on that side. The horse tried to crowd over, but the close-packed buffaloes did not yield. Little Bear knew he had to get out of that herd. If a buffalo ahead of him stumbled, or his horse missed a step, he would be thrown under the herd and trampled to death. A cow, ahead of him and slightly to the left, did stumble to its knees. There was a momentary lessening of the pressure. The horse crowded to the left. Now Little Bear had enough room to try a shot at the buffalo he had been following. He fired an arrow and saw it sink in. The buffalo crumpled to the ground.
Instantly Little Bear’s horse moved over into the opening left by the slain buffalo. Before the herd could close together again, the horse was edging to the right. With the skill of a tightrope walker the horse worked its way through narrow openings towards the fringe of the herd. Time and again Little Bear thought his mount would be knocked down and both of them trampled underfoot, but each time the horse escaped.
At last the horse carried its rider out of the herd. Little Bear ran his hand across his wet brow. He was thankful Grandfather had insisted that he take this horse. No other horse could have carried him out of that herd.
When he had somewhat recovered, Little Bear looked around. Great Bear was busy butchering one of the buffaloes he had slaughtered. Little Bear rode back to help. He and his grandfather worked steadily until they had skinned and butchered all the five buffaloes they had killed. The sun had gone down by the time the task was finished.
Little Bear brought up the other horses while Grandfather put the meat in packs. They loaded the meat on the horses and rode on until they found a suitable place for a camp.
“Shall we reach the main camp tomorrow?” Little Bear asked, as he helped Grandfather prepare their camp.
“We can,” Great Bear assured him. “However, if we ride to a place near the camp and wait until morning, everyone in camp will see us come in with our fine string of horses and our big supply of meat.”
“That would be a way of boasting,” Little Bear objected.
Grandfather smiled. “It would be,” he agreed.
Little Bear was up before daylight the next morning. He built up the fire and, as soon as he saw Great Bear stirring, set off to get their horses. When he returned with them, Grandfather had food cooked.
“You are eager to start.” Grandfather smiled.
“I want to get back to the tribe.” Little Bear nodded.
Great Bear’s guess that Old-Man-of-the-North would send another snow before the main Sioux camp was reached was surely wrong. The sun climbed out of the east into a cloudless sky. Little Bear helped his grandfather pack the meat on the horses they had captured from the Pawnees and on the two Crow ponies. He wondered why Grandfather didn’t put some of the meat on the Sioux ponies, but Great Bear offered no explanation.
Each of them mounted the same horse he had ridden when the two of them left the Sioux hunting party. Little Bear knew this was done to call attention to the horses they had captured.
At times it seemed to Little Bear they were scarcely moving. Yet he knew they were going faster than on any other day since they had started towards the winter camp. There was little snow on the ground and no deep drifts. The horses seemed to sense the long journey was almost done. They pushed ahead rapidly with little urging.
Each time Little Bear looked at the string of horses, he wondered again why Great Bear hadn’t loaded any of the Sioux horses. Surely Grandfather didn’t intend to give the horses back to their former owners.
“You told me,” Little Bear began when they were stopped at noon, “that stolen Sioux horses not recaptured within three days belong to whoever takes them after that time.”
Great Bear glanced towards the string of horses.
“That is right.” He nodded.
“Then all of these horses belong to us,” Little Bear insisted.
“They do.” Great Bear nodded again. “However, when hunters or warriors return from a successful raid, they should give presents to the poor and to their friends.”
“We should give half of our meat to Lone Eagle’s widow and her children,” Little Bear suggested.
“That will be good.” Grandfather smiled. “Half of it is a generous gift. I am proud that you are generous.”
They were silent for some time. Little Bear had the odd feeling that Grandfather was not quite pleased with him. Grandfather had said that he was proud, but something was lacking.
“And our friends?” Grandfather asked after a time.
Little Bear looked towards the horses. He turned his eyes towards Grandfather, but the old warrior was looking off to the west.
“We must bring our friends some presents,” Little Bear agreed. “Do—do you think we should give the horses back to the men they were stolen from?”
“By Sioux law the horses are ours.” Great Bear spoke gravely. “This has been your first raid. You have played a warrior’s part. Now you must make a warrior’s decision. Whatever you decide we should do with the horses, we will do.”
While they were still some distance from the camp, Little Bear decided about the horses. The gift of half of the meat to the widow and her children was far more generous than anyone would expect. He and Grandfather could make presents for their friends. Flying Arrow might demand two horses for the roan colt or even three. Little Bear was determined the only horses with which he would part were the ones Flying Arrow would demand for the roan colt.
Long before Grandfather and Little Bear came within sight of the main Sioux camp, they could hear the dogs barking. Little Bear knew scouts would see Grandfather and him. There would be a delegation of warriors riding out to meet them. Great Bear wanted his grandson to ride ahead, but Little Bear refused.
“You are the leader,” Little Bear insisted. “You must lead into camp.”
As they rode around a high cliff and came in sight of the Sioux camp spread over a great valley, they saw a party of horsemen riding to meet them. Great Bear raised his voice in the victory chant, and Little Bear joined him.
The warriors circled the string of horses, gazing admiringly at them. Flying Arrow’s face lighted up when he saw the two horses he had lost. Little Bear heard the warriors praise Great Bear for his victory. It was strange that Grandfather didn’t tell the warriors Little Bear had helped win the victory. After the warriors had circled the captured horses several times, they formed a line on each side. Little Bear thrilled with pride as he and Grandfather were escorted into camp.
Before the party reached the first tepee, every boy in camp was following. Great Bear rode directly to the lodge of Lone Eagle’s widow. He stayed on his horse and waited. Little Bear ran forward and started unloading meat. There were exclamations of approval when he left half of the meat at the widow’s lodge. The procession moved on to Great Bear’s lodge. Here the rest of the meat was unloaded.
“I’ll take the horses to the corral, Grandfather,” Little Bear offered.
Grandfather hesitated. He seemed about to say something, but changed his mind. He nodded and turned away.
Little Bear declined the offers of help from the boys surrounding the horses. He rode slowly towards the corral. When he was near it, he hesitated for some time. Finally he made up his mind. He jumped from his horse, tied the halter rope up, and turned the horse into the corral. He did the same with Great Bear’s horse, the two that had belonged to the Crow and the four they had captured from the Pawnees. When he came to the Sioux horses he and Grandfather had taken from the Crow, he removed the halter from each before he put it in the corral. He carried the halters back to Great Bear’s tepee.
When Little Bear entered the tepee, Great Bear was gone.
“The warriors have called him to the council to tell of our adventure,” Little Bear thought to himself.
He stretched out on the buffalo robes to rest. His head had hardly touched the soft fur when a young warrior stuck his head inside the tepee.
“You are wanted at the council tent,” the warrior announced.
Little Bear scrambled excitedly to his feet. This was indeed a great honor. He wrapped a bright blanket around his shoulders and picked up the halters. He hid the halters under the blanket so that no one could see them.
At the council wigwam, the young warrior held the flap aside and politely waited for Little Bear to enter. Little Bear’s heart skipped a beat when Rain-Maker waved him to a place of honor beside Great Bear in the council circle.
There was a brief silence as Little Bear settled down beside his grandfather. At a signal from Rain-Maker, Great Bear got to his feet.
“It was a good raiding party.” Great Bear spoke slowly. “It is unseemly for a grandfather to boast of his grandson, yet often, when I would have turned back, like a true Sioux, Little Bear urged me to go on. Much of what we have done, we have done because he wouldn’t give up. He suggested the generous present for the widow. He will tell you of presents we plan for our friends.”
Great Bear sat down. Every eye in the council wigwam turned on Little Bear. He was frightened, but not too frightened to wonder how Grandfather had guessed about the presents. Grandfather would not have mentioned presents unless he was sure Little Bear had some for their friends. Then he understood. It was what Grandfather thought right. Great Bear had been so sure Little Bear would see and do the right thing that he had announced the presents without waiting to hear Little Bear’s plans.
Slowly Little Bear got to his feet. His eyes searched out the hunters who had lost horses to the Crow. To each of these he handed a halter.
“This is the halter of the horse a Crow stole from you,” he said to each warrior, as he held out a halter. “Your friends, Great Bear and I, are returning your horses to you.”
Flying Arrow was last. To him Little Bear handed two halters. There was a chorus of approval from the council as Little Bear sat down beside his grandfather. When Grandfather smiled proudly at him, Little Bear forgot he didn’t have any horses left that were good enough to trade for the roan colt.
Flying Arrow jumped to his feet.
“In many ways Little Bear has proved himself a warrior,” Flying Arrow said. “Twice he has done me a great service. I have a roan colt which I want to have belong to a good warrior. Since Little Bear has proved we are friends, he cannot refuse my gift.”
With all the warriors watching, Flying Arrow stepped in front of Little Bear. He drew a halter from under his blanket and held it towards Little Bear.
“My friend,” he said, “your roan colt is in the corral. You will train him to be the good horse of a good Sioux warrior.”
Little Bear hung his head. No one must see his eyes. He knew those tears stinging the backs of his eyelids were not warriorlike, but he was so happy he couldn’t stop them. He had been called a warrior and the roan colt was his!
By FRANCIS LYNDE KROLL
Illustrated by CHARLES H. GEER
It was in the days when the Pawnees and the Sioux roamed the plains in search of buffalo herds. In the camp of the Sioux, Chief Great Bear sat at the council fire with his braves who planned to drive the Pawnees from the Sioux hunting grounds.
But Great Bear had other problems. His grandson, Little Bear, was beginning to grow up. He had to be taught how to use a bow and arrow, how to shoot straight, how to saddle a horse, how to ride, and the many things a young Indian needed to learn.
How Great Bear trained his little grandson and how together they tracked a horse thief who stole their horses: how the courage, determination, and ability of Little Bear saved the entire tribe, make absorbing, exciting reading, and when at length Little Bear is finally called “warrior,” the reader has an authentic, historically accurate picture of the real life of a boy in an Indian tribe.
This is a Young Heroes Library Volume.
GROSSET & DUNLAPPublishers of WORDS:The New DictionaryNew York10, N. Y.
YOUNG SIOUX WARRIORYOUNG SAND HILLS COWBOYYOUNG PONY EXPRESS RIDERYOUNG VISITOR TO MARSYOUNG BUCKSKIN SPYYOUNG HERO OF THE RANGEYOUNG INFIELD ROOKIEYOUNG CIRCUS DETECTIVEYOUNG CROW RAIDER